


time to begin

by mysterytwin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Post canon, The Mystery Twins Are Back, i miss them so much so here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytwin/pseuds/mysterytwin
Summary: In between birthday party planning and nightmares, there are some things they need to talk about before summer ends and a whole new series of misadventures begin.





	time to begin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endae/gifts).



> this fic is a mess of emotions and me trying to cope with how much i miss gravity falls,, so uh. this is also lowkey inspired by the b99 episode ‘chasing amy’ so that’s fun
> 
> also, happy birthday to endae!! you’re amazing and so supportive and i hope you have an amazing day! <3

Mabel always looks like she’s holding the world together.

Which is almost true, Dipper thinks, because she’s the only person he knows who’s capable of doing so much at a time. She’s smart and creative and full of love. She sees the good before the bad, and that’s something he’s always wanted to be able to do without hesitation. Mabel is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, the calm before the storm, the last shooting star of the night. She can do so, _so_ much.

But everyone has their limits; everyone has their dark days and their low moments. There’s only so much a person can take before they hit rock bottom.

It’s a couple days into their birthday party planning that he sees her starting to burn out.

Mabel placed herself in charge of everything: the cake, the decorations, the balloons, the food. Everyone’s invited, and if almost a hundred people are going to show up, then there’s a lot to prepare for. Dipper’s been doing his best to help, but even that is wearing him out, too. He can only imagine what she must be feeling.

It’s three days before the party (before they _leave_ ), and they’re halfway through preparations. Things are going smoothly—at least, that’s what Dipper likes to believe.

He’s by the kitchen table, Waddles on his lap as he writes in the journal Ford gave him. He’s working on his latest entry; it’s about the MultiBear and their shared love for BABBA. It’s nice to reminisce how far they’ve come through the past two months, and it’s a little bittersweet. Things are going to be different from here on out, especially when they make it back to Piedmont. The… _normality_ will definitely be something to get used to again; no one-eyed bats flying around, no fairies, no demons. It’s a little ironic—they’ve gotten so used to the unknown and peculiar that being in a place without it seems even stranger.

( _because you belong in such a messed up place. this is where your heart is, in a place no one can find.)_

He hears Mabel groan from where she stands, eyes on her checklist. Her face shows seriousness, eyebrows furrowed and nose crinkled. She’s tapping her glitter pen against her forehead, trapped in thought. Her hair is all frizzed up, and he wonders if she’s brushed it recently. Probably not. Waddles hopps off his lap and circles her feet, calling for attention. Mabel doesn’t even look, and that’s when he knows something’s up.

“You okay?” he calls out, as he puts his pen down. Mabel doesn’t look, still stuck in thought. “Mabel?”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh,” she says slowly, her arms falling to her sides. Mabel walks over and takes the seat in front of him. There are several crossed out words on the notepad, a few scribbles and doodles, too. “I just realized I forgot to go by the store to ask about the balloons. They called this morning and said they would have a new stock of blue balloons coming in today.”

“That’s good.” He recalls her saying something about how they had more pink balloons than blue, and as much as he assured her it was fine ( _Mabel, really, it’s okay, as long as there’s a cake, I’m good to go_ ), she still wanted more. She can stubborn if she wants to, and on some occasions, it can be a little endearing. “What’s the problem, then?”

“But the thing is,” she continues, and she’s chewing on her pen now, a habit she’s most likely caught from him, “I still have to go by Lazy Susan’s to ask about the cake, then I have to decorate the banners, and _then_ , I have to go work on your gift—” she stops suddenly, eyeing him while a small smile grows on her face. “ _Unless_ , a certain someone wants to do it for me.”

He looks at her, and a part of him already knows he’ll be out the door in fifteen seconds, but he figures he’ll put up a fight just to humor her.

“No thanks,” he says, and he’s picking up his pen to write again.

“But it’s your birthday party, too!” she huffs, crossing her arms.

He almost thinks she’s not going to push any further—but he should’ve known better, really. It’s _Mabel._

“Dipper, my brother, the light of my life, the moon to my sun, my pal, my buddy, my best friend, the smartest person I know whom I love very much, my one and only forever, the best sibling I could ever ask for—”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Mabel.” he deadpans, not even glancing at her direction.

“Oh, but it already has, dear brother,” she says with a grin. “You’re already standing up.”

“No, I’m not.”

She stands, grabbing his arm. Mabel pulls, and he stumbles out of the chair. “Yeah, you are.” In her victory, her smile grows even wider. “See?”

“Fine, I’ll go,” he mumbles. He takes his hat from the table and puts it on his head. “You know, I was gonna go do it anyway.”

“Uh huh, sure, whatever you say, bro bro,” Mabel replies dryly.

“Don’t be too so hard on yourself while I’m gone, okay?” he says, a little seriously, placing both hands on her shoulders. “The party’s going to be amazing, no matter what. Don’t stress too much, yeah? Take a break while I’m gone.”

She softens, almost deflating a bit. Her shoulders slump, and he realizes how much the heavy the weight of the party must be. “Thanks, Dipper. I…I think I might take a nap after this.”

“Good,” he says.

“But I can’t do that until you leave. Now, go!”

“Okay, I’m going, I’m going!”

“I love you! You’re my favorite sibling, don’t ever forget that!”

“I’m your _only_ sibling, Mabel!” he argues, but he’s already halfway out the door with a grin on his face. “Love you, too!”

 

* * *

 

Gravity Falls has always been beautiful at night.

The two of them sit on the porch, eyes up at the stars above them. It’s peaceful and quiet, a lot different from the buzz and traffic of the city that Dipper’s grown used to. He’s going to miss this a lot, he realizes.

A firefly illuminates itself and floats by, and it captivates Mabel. She scrambles from her spot to get closer to it. Another one appears nearby, and she gasps.

“We never see much of these back at home, do we?” Dipper says, looking at them. One appears close by to where he sits, and he watches it fly.

Mabel hums in agreement before sitting back next to him, bringing her legs to her chest. She looks exhausted, and Dipper wants nothing more but to wrap her in a blanket and make her sleep. But she told him she wanted to see the stars, flashed her puppy face at him, and he wasn’t able to resist.

“What do you think it’ll be like,” she says softly, still focused on the fireflies, “to be back home and pretend we didn’t just go through an actual apocalypse?”

Dipper mulls it over, and he copies her position, chin on knees. “It’ll be the biggest secret we’ve ever kept, that’s for sure.”

“I know why we can’t tell Mom and Dad,” she states, “but it won’t feel good.”

“I know.” He shuts his eyes briefly, and he can still see the stars. “But we have to.”

Mabel doesn’t say anything after that. The space between them is quiet, filling up the gap until it’s just there. It’s not suffocating, not uncomfortable, almost just right. Will it always be like this, just the two of them against the world? Things have changed a lot, but maybe they won’t. He hopes so.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Dipper blinks. “Yeah, just fine.”

( _liar liar liar liar liar)_

Mabel sighs. She goes quiet again for a moment before she speaks. It’s a question he never saw coming.

“Do you miss it, Dipper?”

“Miss what?”

“When things were simpler,” she clarifies, not quite meeting his eyes. “Before all of this. Before the weirdness and the demons. When we didn’t know any better.”

He’s about to say no before hesitating, because he realizes that he _does_. That there are nights when he thinks back to before, that there are nights when he wonders what it would be like if they never went to Gravity Falls. He misses the simplicity.

“Yeah, I do,” he answers, his voice soft. “But I don’t regret it.”

And things are better this way, he believes, because now he knows that there are things to be afraid of. There are things to believe in and to find, there are questions worth answering. There are people worth fighting for.

Mabel nods, and she goes still again. She rests her head on his shoulder, sighing.

“So much is going to change,” Mabel mumbles before yawning.

“We should get you inside,” he tells her, but she doesn’t move, content with her spot. “Mabel.”

“I’m fine here, thanks.”

“My shoulder isn’t that comfortable.”

“You don’t know that. You’ve never tried it.”

“Fair point,” he says. “But still. You’re exhausted. You’re probably not gonna get out of bed until ten.”

“Actually, I have to meet Lazy Susan at seven—”

“I take it back. You’re not _allowed_ to get out of bed until ten. I’ll make sure of it,” he says strictly. “You need rest.”

“But—”

“I’ll take care of it,” he tells her. “Heck, I’ll be there at six if you want to be sure. As long as you stay in bed and you get all the sleep you need.”

She lifts her head to smile at him. “Thanks, Dipper.”

“Now, come on. I think the stars want us to go to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, the dreams that visit him are pleasant. He’s flying and touching the clouds, or he’s finally putting up his own mystery TV show. Sometimes, he’s in the woods and every answer is within his reach. Everyone is happy, _he’s_ happy, and the world isn’t falling apart.

The good dreams are the ones where Mabel is laughing beside him, stars in her eyes, and a melody to her voice. It’s the ones where the wind sings its goodbye to the sun before disappearing into the horizon, or the ones where the campfire burns just as bright as their laughter.

He loves those dreams. They remind him of better days and happy summers. But maybe it’s also because they’re so rare.

Mostly, the nightmares catch him. The world is on fire ( _it’s always_ _red red red_ ), and he can’t find his way home. It’s a burning maze, surrounding him and blocking any path that seems to bring hope. A demon’s laugh is everywhere he turns, a warning sign of the end.

He’ll be looking, searching for a way out and Mabel will appear sometimes. He’ll think of the same thing as always: _if this is hope, then Mabel must be salvation_ , but instead she’ll be his ruin. Her eyes won’t be hers; one eye shut and another a yellow too bright. Her smile will be someone else’s, too wide and too insincere. He’ll know it isn’t her, but he’ll reach out anyway.

She’ll disappear, crumble into ash before his fingertips even reach her. The scene will play itself over and over again—sometimes it’s Stan instead, Ford, or Wendy, but it’s usually Mabel. She’s where it hurts the most—where the hope builds up high and gets burned down by the fire.

Dipper sees fire, and sometimes he forgets he can even wake up.

 

* * *

 

The shadows dance on the walls when he jolts right up, his heart racing and his palms sweaty. Another nightmare. It’s becoming a pattern, almost like a ritual. Even when the apocalypse ended, things still follow him. The demon still follows him.

 _She’s still alive_ , he tells himself. _She’s still alive_. Mabel is sound asleep across the room, a stuffed animal wrapped in her arms. She snores softly, and he doesn’t want to disturb her. She looks so peaceful like this, when she isn’t worrying about the party or having nightmares of her own. Maybe they’ll both get their peace one day, years after all of this.

His heart isn’t beating too fast anymore, and he’s calmed down a bit. Still, his throat feels dry and a bit itchy. He draws his legs out of the bed, careful to not step on the creaky wooden spots, and he makes his way to the door. Just a glass of water. Simple enough.

The light’s already on when he walks down the steps and into the kitchen. Stan is there, sitting by the kitchen table, a cup of coffee steaming. He doesn’t notice Dipper, not yet, and he remains still. Dipper’s almost convinced that he’s asleep, up until the old man finally looks up to meet his eyes.

“It still haunts ya, doesn’t it?”

It took Stan one look to find the places where Dipper’s crumbling. Maybe because he’s seen it all before, in his own self.

He grabs a glass from the counter and walks toward the fridge. Dipper pours the water and takes a sip before speaking.

“Yeah.”

Stan smiles, but it’s grim. “You get used to it after a while. Thirty years, and I’m still managing.”

“I don’t think that’s very healthy,” Dipper says, but his voice is small. “You shouldn’t keep it all in.”

“Trust me, kid. It’s better no one else carries the burden,” he says, almost sorrowfully. It almost seems like Stan’s aging right before his eyes, the eye bags run deeper and wrinkles grow longer.

“I’m sorry,” is all Dipper can think of saying. “Do you ever wish you could take it all back?”

Maybe it’s the midnight drowsiness that gives him the courage to ask, but Stan doesn’t seem to offended. He takes it as a good sign. The personal tends to bleed out of you when your mind is half-asleep and the world has faded away into darkness.

“Sometimes,” he mutters, an old man grumble. “Seems easier if none of it happened. If I wasn’t so stupid or selfish. No portal, maybe, if Ford had gone to his dream school. He wouldn’t have ended up in this town. Then none of it would have began.”

Stan sighs into his cup, but it seems as if the load on his shoulders has lightened, even by just a bit. He looks at Dipper. “But it all worked out, didn’t it? That’s what matters.”

Dipper remains silent, and he feels a little bad for asking. Now they’re shrouded in the heaviness of regret and guilt, and he only wonders how Stan lives in it every day. Things are better now, but the past still remains unchanged.

Suddenly, Stan gets up. He gestures to Dipper. “C’mon, I wanna show you something. How I deal with all of it.”

He follows Stan to Ford’s room. It’s empty, since his other uncle chooses to stay by the laboratory, just in case. Now that the rug is gone and his bed was moved back to the attic, there’s just a huge space all around.

Stan walks to the side and tosses him a pair of gloves—he realizes that they’re _boxing_ _gloves_. He only looks at the old man in question, but Stan only smiles ever so slightly.

“Put ‘em on,” he tells Dipper. “Go on.”

And he does, feeling a bit weird. They must’ve been Stan’s when he was younger, since they fit pretty well. He watches as Stan picks up a padded cushion, lowering it to Dipper’s chest level.

His eyes are bright when he says, “Hit me with your best, kid.”

Dipper punches, but it’s hesitant and soft. The disapproving look on Stan’s face makes Dipper want to try again, so he does, with a little more force this time.

“That’s better,” he says. “Always make sure your thumb’s out, ‘kay? Don’t wanna break it. Try being faster this time.”

Dipper hits and hits and hits. Stan’s smile grows wider with every punch, a little proud.

“That’s it.” Stan’s eyes are gleaming. “Just let everything out. The nightmares, the guilt, the pain.”

He thinks of the fire and the burning trees, the red sky and the yellow triangle ( _it’s the eyes you should be afraid of_ ), the rift and the tears, the heaviness of his chest, the fork marks on his wrist, the bruises that line up against his legs, the scars on his stomach, the ash and the falling stars, the broken promises and the _yesterday and yesterday and yesterday—_

Stan stumbles back, and Dipper stops. He doesn’t realize he’s crying. The sobs wrack through his body, shoulders shaking. His arms are limp by his side, and the tears are falling the ground slowly. There’s too much all at once.

“You’re good at hiding it from your sister, kid,” Stan says, kneeling to meet his eyes and placing a hand on his shoulder. “But not from me.”

Dipper shakes his head, fists clenched. He can’t say anything, not now, not when all will come out is a strangled cry for help. He knows Stan has been through this, and it’s why he’s helping it—but does he deserve it?

Does he deserve to feel better?

“Just let it all out,” Stan says quietly, and he wraps an arm around Dipper, pulling his nephew in close. Tears are staining his shoulder, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Let it all out.”

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, before another stream of tears comes rushing through. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. You lost your memory—I’m sorry, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Dipper,” he says calmly, rubbing his back. “It’s okay. It’s all over. My memory’s back. It’s okay.”

Dipper shakes his head, but he’s calming down a bit. “I’m sorry, Grunkle Stan.”

“It’s not your fault, kid,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

Dipper stops thinking of the fire and the burning trees. He stops thinking about the past and what it holds, stops thinking about what ifs and the almosts. Things are better now, changing for the _better_ , and he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.

“It’s okay, Dipper.”

And for once, it feels like it all will be.

 

* * *

 

When he goes back to sleep at night, it’s raining and Mabel is right next to him. She’s laughing, and the smile is hers this time. She’s holding his hand and something tells him she’s not going to let go.

 

* * *

 

When he comes back from Lazy Susan’s as promised, he finds Mabel already up and moving, working on whatever’s left for the party. There are flyers scattered on the floor, and crayons littered nearby. Soos stands to the side, putting up the banners, and Mabel’s directing him on where to put them.

“Just a little bit to the left,” she instructs, squinting her eyes and rubbing her chin. “No, I meant my left, sorry. Thanks, Soos.”

“Hey,” he says, approaching them. Soos waves at him before leaving the room to work on something else. Dipper checks his watch, only to see that it’s just quarter to nine. “You’re still supposed to be sleeping.”

“But there’s so much to do today!” Mabel argues. “We’ve still got to hang up the rest of the banners, fix the music playlist—which, by the way, you still need to add whatever songs you want to, especially _Disco Girl_ and _Taking Over Tonight_ —and Waddles keeps eating the brownies that Grenda made!”

“Is that safe?” Dipper asks.

“I don’t even know.”

“Look, it’s all going to be fine. Everyone’s gonna love it, trust me.” He places a hand on her shoulder in reassurance, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.

She runs a hand through her hair, clearly stressed. “Dipper, this is our entrance to becoming post pre-teens! It’s our first goodbye to Gravity Falls, and it needs to be unforgettable! It can’t be _just fine_ , it needs to be the best party ever!”

“And it _will be_ because you’re planning it. No one can throw parties like you, and I know with all my heart that this will be the best birthday of my life,” he says softly, and Mabel sighs. “Look, let’s go through the list and you can give me some stuff to do. I’ll take the heavier ones, and we’ll finish quicker that way. This will be the best party anyone’s ever seen and it’s going to be because of you. You can do this.”

After a beat, Mabel’s shoulders loosen up and she hands him her notepad.

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

He looks over at the list, and it doesn’t seem too long. It can be done in a day, which is good. They can handle it.

“Says here that we still need to buy some plastic plates and cups. Do you want me to go do that? You can finish up the banners. Is that okay?”

Mabel nods. “Sounds good.”

“Okay,” he says. He smiles a little, and takes her hand to squeeze it. “Go easy on yourself. It’ll all be worth it in the end, I promise.”

“Thanks, Dipper,” she says, and she holds out her arm for an embrace. He takes it, and he hears her mumble, “You really are the best brother.”

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he tells her. “Then we’ll go and watch Ducktective as a break, yeah?”

Mabel smiles, notepad pressed to her chest. “I look forward to it, Sir Dippingsauce.”

He laughs as he walks through the door, and he feels a little lighter. If they can get through the apocalypse, they can get through anything. Especially birthday parties.

 

* * *

 

It takes a while for Dipper’s heart to realize that things are changing. It recognizes everything but itself, knocks on its own door only to call its own self a stranger. Stan helped him begin to relearn his own self, to struggle through the amnesia of time and guilt. And it’s getting better, lighter, softer. More innocent.

There are no nightmares that follow him to sleep, and the demons inside his brain realize that there’s no point in bringing destruction when the light has finally come.

 

* * *

 

Their birthday finally arrives. Mabel’s bouncing on his bed before he’s even conscious enough to register what’s happening, and the world is bright and warm all around. It almost feels _too_ right, almost as though he never thought this day would actually come.

They’ve come so far from planning it; with a wince, he can still remember his sister’s tears when he planned on staying in Gravity Falls. But now they’re here, right on the brink of it all, finally on the last day of summer.

She tackles him with a hug when his eyes are open, and he does his best to wake his sleeping arms and return the embrace.

“Happy birthday, Dipper!” she says, beaming. Her hair is still messy from sleep, but she doesn’t seem to mind it one bit. She’s sunlight, and this is something he truly believes, because she’s the only reason the world is still spinning.

“Happy birthday,” he says, but it’s softer than hers. “I can’t believe it’s already here. You excited?”

But it’s a question he already knows the answer to, and if it’s possible, her smile grows even wider.

“Duh,” she replies, jumping off his bed.  She walks around a little dizzily, almost still not aware of her surroundings yet. “We’re teenagers, Dipper! Teenagers!”

“Woah, slow down there,” he says as he gets up to take her hands and keep her from falling. “It’s only our first day. Wait ‘til we’re sixteen and you’re sick of me.”

She wraps her arms around his chest and squishes her face next to his. “I could never be sick of you, ol’ brother of mine.”

“We’ll see,” he teases, but he hopes to whoever’s out there that she’s not lying. “Come on, I bet Grunkle Stan put effort in making breakfast today.”

It’s a race down the stairs, and Dipper almost stumbles but he’s laughing along to Mabel’s shouts for joy anyway. He doesn’t think about how his body had once fallen  on purpose down these very steps, all out of his control as his spirit watched the bruises form. He doesn’t think about that, not anymore.

And sure enough, Stan’s prepared stacks of pancakes for them. Both their grunkles are already seated at the table, almost as though they were waiting for them to come rushing down.

Stan’s ruffles both their hair the moment they’re close enough. “Happy birthday, kids!” he greets with a laugh, rumbling through the room.

“Happy birthday!” Ford says, and he hugs them both. “Big day, isn’t it?”

“You bet,” Mabel replies as she takes her seat. Dipper sits next to her, and he can’t wait to finish all the pancakes ahead of him.

“Grunkle Stan, I can’t believe you learned how to cook well overnight,” Dipper says with a cheeky grin, knowing fully well that his uncle will hate it.

And Stan does, but maybe it’s because their birthday that he lets it pass, only letting out a tiny grumble. “Watch it, kid.”

Mabel laughs, throwing her head back and her cheeks turn pink. She holds her hand up for a high-five and Dipper doesn’t hold back.

“Are you both all packed?” Ford asks, as he takes his own bite.

“Yeah,” Dipper replies. “We’ve still got some stuff hanging around—”

“By ‘we’ Dipper actually means himself.”

“—but it’ll all be packed after the party. And no, some of it is yours, Mabel, thank you very much.”

She sticks out her tongue, and Dipper shakes his head.

So good so far, he thinks, and there’s just the biggest feeling that everything is going to go just fine. Dipper looks over to his sister and smiles. If this is their last day of summer, then they’ll just have to make the most of it.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Dipper, you busy?”

Dipper looks up from the TV to see Stan standing awkwardly, holding something behind his back. He glances back at the _Ghost Harassers_ episode playing on screen, and figures he can just figure out what happens next later. This one seems important.

“No,” he answers, standing up from the couch. “What’s wrong? Is it about the party? If it is, you really should be telling Mabel instead—”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” the old man says, waving a hand in dismissal. “I just, uh—I figured that now would be a good time to give ya your birthday present.”

“Oh,” he says, and honestly, he’s a little surprised. He didn’t really expect Stan to get him anything—and it’s not because he thinks his uncle doesn’t care, but he never really seemed like the type to give gifts.

“C’mere.” Stan holds a box out to him, oddly wrapped. “I know it doesn’t really match up to your interests, but I think it might be useful sometimes.”

He unwraps the box to find a pair of kickboxing gloves. They’re new, unlike the worn-out ones he used before. And they look really _cool_ , too.

Dipper looks up at Stan with a grin. He rushes forward and wraps his grunkle in a hug. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you so much.”

And Stan’s right—it might not match up to his interests, but it’s the thought that counts. It’s going to help him let it all out, help him defend himself.

“Come back to the Shack next year, and I’ll properly teach ya, yeah?” Stan says, laughing softly.

Dipper nods before letting go. “Thank you,” he says again. “I really appreciate it.”

Stan’s smiling. “I’m glad you do,” he replies. “Now, have you seen your sister? Lazy Susan was calling me earlier about the cake, said we’ll have to pick it up ‘cause she can’t bring it herself.”

“I’ll go tell her,” he tells Stan. “I’ve got to finish packing, anyway.”

“If you leave anything behind, it’ll be sold before you even get back here next summer!” Stan calls out to him as he leaves.

Dipper only smiles to himself and heads up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

He knocks first, mostly out of habit, even though they share room. It’s odd to think that when they go back home, Mabel will be sleeping a room across instead of right next to him. They’ll definitely be having more sleepovers.

“Hey, Mabel,” he says, as the door slowly opens. She’s sitting on the ground, scrapbook laid before her as she goes through the photos. It’s strikes him, that something like this has happened before. He pushes that thought away; it’s not something he wants to remember.

She looks up and smiles. “Hey.”

Dipper sits on the floor next to her. A photo of them at the lake catches his eye, all pink and bright. It was one of their first days of Gravity Falls, and it’s a memory he wouldn’t want to trade for the world. There are more following that: them at a fair, a random shot of Dipper reading, both of them laughing, the night they sang _Taking Over Tonight_ with Stan, an adorable picture of Waddles, their first photo with Ford, and so much more. They’ve been through a lot this summer, both good and bad, but here they are. They’ve made it this far.

“I can’t believe we’re actually leaving,” Mabel mumbles, knees pulled to her chest. “After all of this, I never actually thought…”

“Me, neither,” he confesses. “But we have to. We’re still going to come back. Right?”

She nods, but it’s hesitant. “Things are never going to be the same, Dipper. You, me, Stan, we’ll all be different people by the time next year comes around. And who know? Maybe next summer won’t be as good as this one. Maybe it’ll suck, and we’ll only have this one to remember and—”

“Hey,” he says soothingly. “Hey, it’ll be okay.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry—I know we talked about this in that courtroom, but it still scares me, you know? Sometimes I just wish I could know what happens.”

“I know,” he says softly. “Sometimes I wish that I could be able to decide what happens. That I could _choose_ what the future has in store. But I can’t, no one can. But it also doesn’t mean that we can’t take what the future gives. Maybe next summer will be even more fun, maybe—maybe it’ll be more exciting. I don’t know, and maybe you’re right, maybe it won’t be as fun, but I just know that as long as I’m with you, it’ll be okay.”

She smiles, grateful. “Thanks, Dipper.”

He only smiles back, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She sighs, and her shoulders loosen.

“You’re the greatest, you know that?”

“I’ve been told. Maybe I’ll even add it to my résumé one day.”

She laughs softly before he lets go, and he’s glad to see that she doesn’t look sad anymore. Dipper turns back to the scrapbook, and finds a photo of a day they went swimming.

“That was fun,” he says. There’s Mabel next to him, her cheek pressed against his as she tried to fit into the frame.

“You look so dorky,” Mabel teases, but he laughs anyway.

“You don’t look exactly perfect either,” he says, but there’s no malice. There never really is, when he’s talking to her.

“Do you remember my cannonball?” she asks excitedly, her eyes twinkling as she recalls the memory. “Everyone got so wet, and Lazy Susan was drenched! Stan was so mad after—”

“Oh!” he says, remembering what Stan told him. “Lazy Susan said she couldn’t bring the cake here and that we’ll have to pick it up ourselves. I can go get it if you want.”

“Really?” Mabel says. “You’re okay with it? Her diner’s pretty far.”

He shrugs. “It’s better than packing. Besides, I wanna walk through the town one more time.” Dipper stands up. “Plus, if I do this, I can guilt trip you into allowing me more slices of cake later.”

“I knew there was a catch.”

Dipper grins, opening the door. “I’ll be back before the party starts. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Mabel says with a soft smile. “See you later.”

 

* * *

 

When Dipper comes back to the Shack, Mabel is gone.

He’s looked all over the house, but there’s no sign of her. It’s an hour until the party, and no one has seen her. He feels the blood rushing through, and he’s getting more and more worried with every second that passes. He promised—he _promised_ —that he would never let her out of his sight again, and yet—

“She’s okay,” Stan says, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes are on the forest ahead of them. “She’s a strong girl. She probably just went out to get some last minute supplies. That’s all.”

Dipper doesn’t mention that she would’ve taken Waddles with her. But her pet pig is in the living room, clueless.

The rational part of his brain knows that Grunkle Stan is probably right—maybe she got distracted by cute puppies along the way. He was only gone for half an hour or so, it’s not too long. She might not even be far away. She’s fine. She’ll be fine.

Then, of course, there’s the illogical, impulsive, and emotional part of his brain that’s still stuck on losing her from Weirdmageddon. Three days. It took him three days to get to her. What if she goes missing for even longer? It’s another promise that’s broken, and Dipper hates it.

Stan forces him to head back to their room, even though he wants to be outside looking for her. He argued that Soos, Ford, and Wendy were already out looking for her, and he would as well, after he made sure Dipper was okay.

It’s later that Dipper realizes that Stan didn’t want him to go missing, too.

He only left for a while. There’s not much that could’ve happened while he was gone. He tries to think of what might have been going through her head, including the checklist of all the party supplies, but he comes up empty. What would she need to leave the Shack for? Sure, all summer they’ve been leaving the house without permission—but this time feels different. It’s…off, like something went sour right after he left.

Mabel was so excited about the party. She wouldn’t just leave. Something must have happened.

He thinks back to their conversation. She seemed pretty okay after he reassured her—or maybe it was never enough after all. Maybe she still felt bad and went outside to clear her head. Some kind of brother he is—he can’t even comfort his own sister.

When he enters, the scrapbook is still on the floor, and everything remains untouched. It’s just how he left it, except it’s missing Mabel. The covers are made, their bags are on the floor, the bathroom is empty, two books are on the table, his journal rests on his bed, opened—

Dipper stops. He’s pretty sure he packed it this morning. He steps closer to it, and sees the entry it rests on. One of his first writings, and it’s about Ford’s journals.

He might know where she is.

His heart is racing when he walks down the stairs. He meets the fresh air, and he’s running into the forest like before, racing the wind. He knows where Mabel is. She’s where it all started, where their story first truly came alive. And if he’s right, she’ll be there.

She’ll be at the beginning, waiting for him in the end.

 

* * *

 

Relief is the first thing that comes flooding to him when he sees her. He was right. She’s here and she’s safe.

She’s sitting on a log a few feet away from where he stands, her back to him and her chin on her hands. Still, he can see the struggle in the way she holds herself, too tight and not as carefree. She’s still wearing the same sweater, a personal favorite, with the shooting star flying across. It’s her.

“There you are,” he says, and it startles her. Mabel turns around, surprise written all over her face as her cheeks color from being caught. “Everyone was so worried.”

She smiles faintly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

And he knows she means it. He gestures to the space next to her and she nods, moving over so he can sit down.

“So,” he says calmly, “why here?”

Mabel shrugs. “This is where we found Grunkle Ford’s journal. I guess…I guess I just wanted to see it again. You know, before we leave.”

He has a feeling it’s more than that, but he doesn’t push. If she wants to tell him, she will. They’ve always been like that. Mabel trusts him the same way he trusts her. No apocalypse could ever change that.

“Next summer is still going to be amazing,” he says softly. “We can’t be sure right now, but I have a feeling it’ll be even better than this one. You shouldn’t have to worry.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you leave?” he asks. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I want to help.”

She sighs, her fingers fumbling on her lap. Mabel shuts her eyes briefly, and when she opens them again, she exhales.

“When you left, I don’t know, it just hit me. I realized that it wasn’t just the people and things around us that could change. _We_ could change, too, Dipper. And what if something happens to us over the school year? What happens if we fight over something dumb?”

 _Oh_ , Dipper thinks. And she’s right, he’s never really thought about it because it never even seemed like a problem. But it might be, and he’s not sure of what to say.

They’ve made dumb mistakes before, and it caused an _apocalypse_ to happen. Who knows what the cost will be next time? _If_ there is a next time.

“We’re gonna make dumb mistakes,” he says after a while, and he knows it’s true. They’re always going to keep messing up. “But that’s okay, because we’ll always make it through in the end. Mabel, we’ve been through a lot this summer, and I doubt any school drama can bring us down.”

She doesn’t say anything. Dipper lets the silence stay for a moment. He takes her hand and holds it tight.

“We’ll make it,” he tells her. “Nothing can defeat the Mystery Twins, remember?”

“Stan and Ford got so mad at each other over a _school_ thing, Dipper,” she says softly. “What if that—what if that’s what happens to us?”

He squeezes her hand. “Then we’ll do what took them thirty years to do: apologize. As much we’re like them, I won’t let it happen. I can’t say for sure, but I will promise you that I’ll always try my best to get back to you, no matter what.”

“Even if it is truly your fault?”

Dipper nods with a small smile. “Even if it is my fault.”

“Okay,” she breathes out, squeezing his hand back. “I promise, too.”

“Awkward sibling hug?” he says, holding out his arms.

Her eyes light up and she smiles. “Sincere sibling hug.”

They do the pats simultaneously. He hopes she feels better about the whole thing.

“We should probably go get the cake,” Mabel says after a beat. “How much more until the party starts?”

Dipper checks his watch. “Ten minutes.”

Her eyes widen. “We better go.”

Mabel grabs his hand before taking off, leaving the metal tree behind them. She’s laughing as he runs behind her, cheeks pink and smile bright.

They’re off to new adventures, and this is only the beginning.

 

* * *

 

When they get back to the Shack, Stan wraps both of them in a tight hug. He looks relieved, and Dipper can’t really blame him.

The party is as fun as Dipper expected, maybe even more, with everyone around them and laughing and singing. Mabel’s eyes are bright and her smile is wide, and that’s enough for him. As long as she’s happy, he’ll be just fine.

It also helps that the cake is absolutely _delicious_.

“Happy birthday, Dipper!” Mabel says, as she tackles him in another hug. “I love you!”

And this, he decides, is _enough_. Whatever the future might have in store for them, whatever good or bad it’ll hit them with, they’re going to be okay because they have each other. This is just another beginning. But this time, there’s no more fire. It’s only sunlight.

He laughs. “I love you, too, Mabel.”


End file.
